


The Key

by Candeecake



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drawing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candeecake/pseuds/Candeecake
Summary: Jemma Simmons loves to contain her problems and her pain. At first it was drawing. Then it was turning the key to the music box. What happens when the key breaks?TRIGGER WARNING:SELF HARM*Please do not read if self harm triggers you in anyway. There is a happy ending but mentions of self harm.*
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	The Key

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM  
> *Please note the warnings!"
> 
> A short piece, that I have no idea which time it is set in. I just really wanted hurt/comfort and to explore Jemma Simmons. She has so much pain and pressure on her. She deserves a hug and a break.

Jemma loved to draw. 

She loved charcoal and fixing the picture to be exactly how she wanted it. Her fingers were always smudged from the pencil and pressing on the wood too hard. She never told anyone, not even Fitz. She was always careful when washing her hands. Making her hands smell of lavender soap and not charcoal stained fresh paper. She thought her drawings weren’t any good. But they were how she wanted them to be which she couldn’t say about her own life.

When off the page, her fingers were caked with blood. Trying to stop the injury from ruining the body. She couldn’t really control biology the way she wanted to. She couldn’t control how much the world hurt her. Seeing her friends die, get hurt or betray her. And Fitz. He was always out of the picture. Someone always erased him, or drew him away from her. They were never together anymore.

She loved drawing him. She always studied his facial expressions. The hand gestures that came with every emotion. The random times he fell asleep. Sometimes she drew him in different stories. Picturing him as a prince or a princess. A dark king of monkeys. Or him happy.

But recently, she has been drawing them. In situations that put a blush on her face. Their arguments about Doctor Who, them in the stars. She pictured them everywhere. Jemma had to buy more supplies, to keep up with her imagination. She loved drawing flowers, landscapes but Fitz was the most interesting. Her parents gave her a sketchbook when starting out at the academy. When she met Fitz, that was the first sketch.

  
  


One day, he found her treasured drawings. He held up the small leather bound book to her. She blushed and had the overwhelming desire to tackle him. Instead she took a first breath and told him. He flipped through the pages, smiling from ear to ear. Jemma fidgeted with her hands, glancing down shyly.

“Have you ever drawn yourself?” He asked, looking up with wonder. She gave a light grin, reaching for her book.

“Of course, I’m in all the pictures of us,” She said, tracing a picture with her hands. 

“I'm just you.”

“No, I’m not really pretty enough to be a good drawing,” She admitted, holding the book close to her chest. He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at her.

“I think you are. Can I draw you?” He asked. She smiled, laughing.

“Sure, another time perhaps.” She said, climbing into bed. He did the same, facing her.

“It’s gonna blow you away.” She went to sleep laughing and sleeping on his chest.

Jemma loved her job.

But some days were harder than others. She couldn’t save agents, and sometimes her hands were too stained with blood. So she didn’t pick up the pencil. There were always people in the lab pointing their daggers of blame with their eyes. Making her feel so guilty, that she couldn’t breathe.

Sometimes razors were better than pencils. As skin was better than paper. Fitz was always there to pick up the pieces. He wrapped her skin carefully with fresh bandages. He embraced her, letting her cry onto his shoulders. Fitz kissed her scars.

“It’s okay.”

“I know, I’ll fix it.”

Usually she hid all her troubles in a beautiful music box. Turning the copper key tighter and tighter. She knew the key was about to snap. She knew the key wasn’t enough. Neither was the box. She just needed a way to feel that she was still in control. Pain was the key. And her body became the box.

Fitz saw her take the pain and weight of everyone else’s into a single breath. She straightened her ponytail and flexed her fingers. Jemma walked into the lab, keeping up her guard. Trying to fix and solve everything. And the things she couldn’t solve or fix. He always thought she would bury it deep. But now he knew that she broke herself. And it wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t helping her.

So he brought in backup.

Jemma had worked tirelessly throughout the night, filing reports on dead inhumans. She had been careful not to cry on her laptop. Stamping the end of their lives on a single piece of paper. 

She hadn’t been taking care of herself. She was desperate to try to save people. Stop an awful event from happening. What was sleeping compared to saving lives? 

She walked into the kitchen, finding the kettle. Her shaky fingers picked out some tea. Carefully she boiled the water, staring at the wall. Jemma heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she plastered a fake smile.

Fitz had a worried face on, glancing at her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, hearing the kettle whistle.

“I’m sorry Jemma. If you won’t listen to me, you’ll listen to them.” He said, taking a step forward.

“What are you talking about?”

Suddenly the room became filled with worry and sad smiles that were meant to be reassuring. Daisy, Coulson, May, Hunter, Bobby, Mac. All of them stared at her.  _ No. _ Jemma thought, turning her back to the kitchen counter. She grabbed a mug, poured some water and placed a teabag. She proceeded to try to exit like everything was normal. Hunter and Bobby blocked the exit. She sighed, feeling the hot mug start to burn her hand. She ignored it.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot of work to do. If you could let me through-”

“Jemma, you have been ahead of work for weeks. We’re worried about you,” Coulson said, smacking a file on the table. Jemma turned around, trying to avoid his gaze. 

“Fitz came and got us. You’ve not been eating, sleeping and we know about the injuries,” Daisy said gently, stepping forward. Jemma sits down on her mug, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jemma lied, glaring at her.

“Simmons, we know you’re lying. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. We want to help,” May gave a small smile. Jemma felt like she was drowning in their stares of pity. She turned to Fitz, glaring at him.

“Why did you tell them? I told you I was going to fix this.” She snapped. “I can fix anything. I have to..” She trailed off, looking down. She ran her fingers through her hair. She took a shaky breath, feeling a panic attack about to rain down on her.

“Jemma, it’s okay,”Bobby whispered. Jemma closed her eyes, imaging her shattered music box.

“I can fix this. Let me fix this,” She sobbed, feeling waves of exhaustion hit her. Her body suddenly felt fragile, her limbs felt weak.

“Jemma, when was the last time you slept?” Mac asked.

“Last week. I think. Look just let me go, I can fix this.” Fitz placed his hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, unable to hide the waterfall of tears pouring from her eyes. He wrapped her in a hug, as she sobbed herself to darkness.

Two months have passed since her meltdown. Dr. Garner had helped immensely. Fitz had been by her side. The entire team sent her texts and updates. Daisy created a fun computer game. She was on vacation with Fitz. A break they both needed.

The cottage was amazing, seashells hanging from the ceiling, sand colored surfaces. Beautiful pictures of the sea and flying birds. It contained natural sunlight highlighting the absence of dust. It was perfect. Jemma opened the door, trying to bathe herself in sunlight. The wind taunted her loose ponytail. She breathed in the salty air, closing her eyes to savor the familiar smell. Her childhood was spent researching seashells found buried in the sand or running to find a glimpse of a crab.

Her peaceful thinking was interrupted by warm hands tangled across her hips. Fitz kissed her cheek, hugging her tightly. She could feel the brightness of his smile. Jemma turned to face him, giving him a passionate kiss. 

He broke apart with a giddy grin. Jemma cocked her head.

“What’s that grin for?”

“I have a gift for you,” He shouted, running inside. She chuckled, strolling inside. Fitz ran back to her, giving her a piece of paper. He watched her carefully. Gazing at him, she took a look at the paper. 

It was her. Beautifully drawn with different colors. She had flowers and stars in her hair. A smile painted on her face. It was her. Fitz had drawn her. With a splash of colors and the universe. She looked beautiful.

“What do you think? I told you I would draw you.” He smiled, fidgeting nervously with his hands. Jemma looked at him with a tender melting gaze. She was speechless, the words dripping down her cheek.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“I was taking art classes while you went to therapy. It was pretty tough to schedule. I thought we should both learn something.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” Jemma beamed, tracing the paper.

“As do you. Look, you're the strongest person I know. And you will always be beautiful to me. I hope you don’t need a drawing to show you that. I love you.”

“I love you too. And we’re stronger together. I couldn’t have done these months without you. I couldn’t imagine my life without you” They pressed their lips together, breathing in each other’s company. She broke apart, squeezing his hand.

“Maybe the next time you could draw me nude.” Jemma winked, giving a sly smile. Fitz blushed, chuckling. She laughed as well, watching him fluster. 

For the first time in a while, She was happy and she was free. Not being weighed down by pain. Jemma loved to draw, loved Fitz and loved herself. And that was beautiful.


End file.
